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A teen girl, an orphan brought up through the foster system is soon to become known as Little One, by her latest foster carers who insist she calls them in an imaginative way. You do the maths! Told through the eyes and the words of Little One herself, experience the bemusement and the confusion as her awakening sexuality and psychology are used to train her to be the best slut that she can be - no matter what she has to go through at any given time. Little One’s training and her subjugation will take her to places, heady places, that she could never imagine, not even in her fertile and expanding imagination.

“She most definitely is a splendid creature and I can imagine how talented she is. She’s already lost that, what’s the word, that
‘innocence’ that she might have had before you got your hands on her old chap. And yet there is enough of it left, enough of it in reserve
to please the more discerning.” I can’t say I was a fan of this old man. The way he spoke about me as though I wasn’t there. He was giving
me compliments but giving me them through Daddy. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe that was the way it had to be. I didn’t
know. His eyes very rarely came to mine. When they did I ensured I was smiling sweetly and then as I did my little ‘twirl’ for him, I did
that thing where I held my hands up higher, elbows bent slightly, like I was that doll on the plinth again. And I shuffled my stiletto’d
feet round and completed the full 360. I had this feeling about this old man though. And that feeling was a correct one. By that I mean I
was not mistaken about that feeling. It wasn’t a good one.
“You’re right of course - there will always be just that little bit of innocence left in her.” And so, the two sets of eyes were on me.
It was like I was being assaulted from all directions. The old man working from my arched feet up over my nylon sheathed legs, and then
Daddy working down from my slut-lips that were parted, just parted like I had been taught, and then down over the breasts bulging in my
shirt, and resting on the nipples, thick, erect and poking through the thinness of the shirt - and just staying right there. And the throb
of my nipples, just as always, emphasised with the feeling of his eyes like that. “I’m wondering though old chap, whether there will be a
slip of that ‘innocence’ and sweetness when the chips are down.” I knew what he meant. Daddy had prepared me for a comment like that when he
had asked about how I would feel and how I would act after being caned.
That was what this old man was on about - would I still be the perfect slut, the best slut I could be, if he was doing something
terrible to me? I had worked that out. I was able to work that out with ease along with the fact, and the knowledge that this old man
wouldn’t have been capable of much sexually because he was passed that in age terms. At least that was what I thought. That was what I had
judged. But the other stuff, the punishment and the pain stuff, and wanting or needing to inflict that on a slut, wouldn’t leave him. That
desire wouldn’t leave him and that was what he was on about. That was something that had probably been with him all his life and wouldn’t be
leaving him, or would only leave him maybe with his dying breath.
“I mean we could try her out. Just a little tester old chap - why don’t we do that? Those weren’t the words that I had been expecting to
hear next. And they weren't the words that I wanted to hear at all if I am honest. I didn’t know what the old man meant by trying me out,
and just a little tester. There was another pause and I shifted my weight from one of my spiked heels to the other. It was weird, when I did
that I could feel every single nuance of it. I could feel how I felt. I felt like a slut. I felt like those heels elevated me to a stance
and a status that pleased men like Daddy and this old man. Maybe it was the guilt of looking like I looked that was hitting me. I could
understand it if that was the case. I was aware of the splay of my long legs and the slight jut to one side of my hip. And yes of course I
could feel those eyes. “I think that is a splendid idea my man. I don’t see a problem with you testing the water a little bit. And I know
that you don’t have any objections, do you Little One?” And there was the OMG nano second that Daddy was directing a question at me. There
was something about that that chilled me to the bone. I had to speak and for some reason that chilled me to the bone.
I understood now why there were so many pauses and why there was so many considered gaps between conversation pieces. It was the thing
about getting the words right, getting the syntax right. I had to get over the shock for this time of being spoken directly to. It had been
like I had been cut out, like I didn’t exist there except as a conversation piece and now I was having to think about the question and the
words that I used next. “No Daddy, no I don’t have any objections. I want to be the best slut I can be for you and for Mummy.” And I smiled
sweetly and did this little swivel of the hips side to side as though I was a little girl who had just been told she was being taken onto
the world’s biggest roller coaster. In a way that was right. I was on a roller coaster, but I hadn’t been put on it just then, I had been
put on it the time when Mummy and Daddy had taken me from that last foster home.
The old man made a sound like he was guffawing or something. To me it sounded like he thought all his Christmases had come at once. And
then he sat down on a chair and there was that almost nightmare sound, and sight of him patting his lap as he looked directly at me. My
heart didn’t exactly sink but it did miss a beat. This wasn’t a good time for me. If I could feel anything at this precise time it was that
I was being passed round. That was the feeling I got and that was deeply embedded in me. That Daddy was passing me to this old man and god
only knew a that precise point what he was going to do to me. I just smiled sweetly and at the same time I kept my slut lips apart because I
knew that was what I had to do. In a way I had to rise above what my natural instinct was. And that was to get as far away from this old man
as possible. I had to fight that with everything inside me. With Mummy and Daddy, it was different - I had to stay with them. But with this
old man, it was like he was this old creep who I would never ever see I again. At least I hoped that would be the case. But I had to be
exactly the same with him. I had to be the slut. The perfect slut. This was me in at the deep end. It felt like I was out of my depth that
was for sure.

Author Information

\\\"DrkFetyshNyghts writes her hard hitting stories almost as crime novels. The BDSM, the Fetish and the Bondage being the crimes along with the impunity with which the perpetrators operate. This, together with an autobiographical feel and forensic attention to detail, adds a distinctly jagged and disturbing edge to the narrative.\\\"

Hello there, as above, I am a 39 year old Lady writer and I have a \\\'thing\\\' for latex, nylons and heels... all wrapped up in dark brooding bdsm and extreme control (mostly lesbian though not exclusively so). Forced orgasms. Orgasm denial.. and debilitating mental cruelty. I enjoy exploring the dark side and within stories can revel in the no safe words morality. Please visit me at www.drky.co.uk

Publisher Information

Publishers of non-adult and adult fiction. Authors, experienced and new are welcome. We have a number of different sites for various genres, including specialist sites for Romance (www.a1romancestories.com, our non-adult and erotica site at www.fiction4all.com and a number of adult sites based around our main site at www.a1adultebooks.com